


Not Farewell, but Goodbye

by Rice-Ball247 (Koibito247)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Implied Drarry, M/M, Oneshot, Romance, Slash, snarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2694134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koibito247/pseuds/Rice-Ball247
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been two years since their abrupt breakup and Severus needs to know if their relationship still has a chance, or if it was dead to begin with. SSHP, implied DMHP slash oneshot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Farewell, but Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

He was nervous, just like any other time.

Any other time when they’d randomly stumbled across each other in the barren corridors of Hogwarts at three in the morning; when they’d sat together during the Christmas feasts, thanks to the meddling of one Albus Dumbledore; when their hands and thighs randomly brushed and jolted away a mere second later, as if touched by lightning.

When they’d met again, in an empty corridor one winter night; when _he_ had forcefully pressed his lips against his and when they’d melted into it; when the first intimate touch between them sent sparks of electric spasms liquefying into something hot and strange and flushing through his veins, something that made him feel oddly rejuvenated and young again.

When they’d meet in secret, away from the prying eyes of students, staff and nosey portraits; when they’d shared kisses of passion, chastity and bittersweet; when they’d simply embraced each other, molding against one another, soaking up the heat and the comfort of the other; when they cried together, despite it being difficult for the both of them; when they mourned, when they laughed, when they lived, when they were joined in more ways than one and when they…separated.

Needless to say, Severus Snape was nervous.

And it was all Harry-sodding-Potter’s fault.

No. No, it was _Severus’_ fault. As always, as usual, Severus’ fault. Damn it, he need a drink. A good shot of firewiskey or really strong brandy- no.

No, that was what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. He couldn’t even remember what the fight had been about. All he could remember was the fury he had felt, the anger pulsating off his young lover and, handling the situation like mature adults, they did not hex each others bollocks off. No, they’d thrown vases and irreplaceable china and even the cat, at each other. Then the boy had stormed off in a loud huff, the front door banging eerily loud in his wake, and rousing Severus from the angry trance he had been in.

They needed the closure. Today was either make or break. The start of something beautiful or the end of something special. Either way, there was going to be an end to this madness of just sitting around moping.

Severus contemplated the dark, slender bottle of Merlot stashed behind some books, when the grandfather clock in the corner chimed 6 in the evening. Severus swallowed whatever had been building in his throat, no doubt nerves, and patted down his robes. Was he too overdressed? Underdressed? Not even dressed for the right occasion?

Severus began to freak. But no, Severus Snape most certainly did _not_ freak out, not even in the most extreme of situations and certainly not in a situation as mundane as this. Okay, perhaps it wasn’t an ordinary, everyday situation.

Heck, he’d rather suffer a week under Voldemort’s Cruciatus Curse.

‘Chin up, Severus. It’s just bloody Potter. Nothing more, nothing less.’

Severus repeated that line like a mantra in his mind, slowly ticking him closer and closer to the edge of insanity. He self-consciously pulled his robe off, tucking it under his arm. They were going to be at Hogsmeade, for god’s sake! He was about to pull it back over his head when the clock chimed a second time, signaling he’d better get a move on or else he’s reputation for being on time would be tarnished by his tardiness.

Severus didn’t bother to look in a mirror. He knew what he now looked like. His hair was black, still shoulder length and greasy looking, hooked nose set on an aging face with sallow skin. He wasn’t handsome, that was that. Yet _he_ had seen something when they were together, so why not now?

‘Obviously, something must have happened to get him to see the ugliness in me even more than before. It’s been nearly two years and we haven’t broken up properly yet.’

It hurt, everyday, every minute, every waking moment. At times, when Severus would close his eyes, he could almost feel _his_ presence beside him, hand clasped on his arm in that comforting manner that got him to calm down. Sometimes Severus would feel a gentle weight on his chest, which felt oddly like _him_ resting atop his torso after their passionate lovemaking. Other times, Severus would feel a soft pressure against his cheek or forehead or lips, strangely reminiscent of the touches that would be graced on him by none other than Harry Potter. What had ruined their happy ending?

As soon as he had left his door, his wand was at the ready, pulling up the extra wards that had been taken down while he was in his home. Maybe Harry disliked his paranoia?

No…Harry felt _safe_ with him, goddamn. So what had he done to drive him away? As frightening as the thought sounded, Severus knew it had been his fault. There was only the slightest assurance in telling himself that he wasn’t to blame, that it was _Potter’s_ fault.

He’d gladly take that comfort.

Severus walked the short distance down to the main street, boots crunching against the gravelly pathway of his home in Spinner’s End. The pathway eventually petered off into a desolated cobblestone street. His lip curled when he sighted a brat nearby, accompanied by a filthy mutt. Both were ragged and thin. Dirty. Mangy. Smelly.

It was the culture of this place.

Perhaps _that_ was why Harry no longer found him attractive. Would he move closer to London for Harry? Perhaps. Yes, the thought was somewhat pleasant. He couldn’t care less what anyone else thought of his residence, except for maybe Harry’s opinion. But the young man had neither care nor worry about Severus’ choice of home. Severus would have liked to get away from his childhood nightmare, but this was home to him, much as he loathed it to be.

The Malfoys’ lived in a mansion, on their estate in Wiltshire. It was…well, it was probably Harry’s dream place. The air was clean and pure, unlike the rank, smog-laden filth they breathed in here. The place was mostly high downland and wide valleys, and the temperature was a tad _too_ cold, but what would that matter if you lived in a comfortable _breathable_ home, cozy and warm with your beloved?

Speaking of beloved, Severus realized that although they hadn’t broken up yet, and although he was pining for Harry, he knew nothing about said man’s life as of two years ago. He didn’t know if Harry was still…well…Harry. He didn’t know if Harry was still ‘this way’ inclined (which Severus doubted he wasn’t, however, the boy _had_ been bisexual, so perhaps he’d found himself a chit…or…), or if Harry was even single.

He could see the river now. He swept across the measly bridge that had been built there a few months back, but due to lack of money into making it at least durable, it fell into a state of disrepair and people often found themselves stuck in a few of the planks.

The moment he stepped onto the other side of the river, Severus Apparated away to the nearest Apparition point possible to Hogsmeade. Despite his nervousness, Severus did not stumble. To any observer, he was completely calm, a bit windswept, but generally composed nonetheless. He strode over to the Three Broomsticks and pushed the doors open single-handedly.

Looking around this place brought back so many unwanted memories. No…

Severus wanted them. Wanted very much to relive them. With Harry.

But really, if they had wanted to meet in private, Harry should have, at least, the courtesy to choose a less attention-grabbing meeting place. Like the Hog’s Head. Perfect for doing meetings, because you never saw the other patrons.

Then again, maybe it had been _this_ type of thinking that had gotten Harry over the point – to the point where he no longer wished to be in Severus’ presence, much less his partner. He didn’t allow the bitterness that he felt to grace his expression when he caught sight of a nervous raven-haired man fidgeting in a well secluded booth (well secluded from everyone else, save perhaps Severus’ observant eye).

“Good evening,” Severus greeted in a silky tone, stopping behind the seat that was reserved for him. Harry’s head shot up at the sound of Severus’ familiar voice and the slightest of smiles quirked on his lips.

“Severus,” he breathed, choking slightly on what seemed to be air. Well, it was nice to know they were still on first name basis, but then again, Harry had never given a ‘rat’s ass’ about remembering formalities when it came to people that had been close to him. Heck, even when Severus had been his professor at Hogwarts, a _hated_ professor at that, Harry had had the gall to call him Snape, sans title ‘professor’.

Harry flushed as the man across from him looked around the bar rather uneasily before shrugging off his cloak and draping it over the back of his chair. A moment, and then, “Please, do sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

‘You haven’t the slightest idea, Harry…you haven’t the slightest clue.’

Severus slid gracefully into his seat and there was a pregnant pause, broken only by Madam Rosmerta’s appearance at their table, order parchment in hand.

“Well, well! What do you know? Severus Snape and Harry Potter reunited?” she chattered on excitedly, gesturing to the both of them with her warm hands and smiling widely. The smile disappeared when both parties at the table denied such things. “Oh come now! That’s what everybody says! And knowing me, I’ve met nearly everybody here with my age! Planning a wedding soon, yes?”

“Definitely not,” Harry mumbled softly and the witch’s faded smile instantly vanished. Severus tried to push down the immediate sting of hurt he felt panging in his chest as she cleared her throat, summoned a quill and took their orders.

“I’ll have a butterbeer,” Harry said without looking up from his hands, fiddling with the edge of an enchanted paper napkin – enchanted in ways that it would attempt to wipe hands by itself, but Harry had already begun to shred the poor thing to bits until it was a quivering pile of tissue.

“Black coffee, one sugar,” Severus began, but was surprised when Harry finished for him, “no cream and a shot of scotch on the side.”

“You remembered,” Severus whispered shortly, after Madam Rosmerta had left with raised eyebrows. Harry met his eyes for a moment, before returning to looking at his hands and the remnants of his napkin.

“Of course. I never forget. That time when we had a Hogsmeade visit, you and I came here, if I remember correctly. And I was carrying back the drinks, only you stood up to help and I ended up tripping and spilling it all over you,” Harry laughed and the heavy atmosphere was lifted somewhat when Severus let out a chuckle or two. Their eyes met again and a sense of awkwardness, and knowing of the uneasiness to come, settled over their table yet again.

They fell silent.

Harry’s fingers were drumming subconsciously on the table. His eyes watched his hands unseeingly, drumming subconsciously on the table. Severus was watching Harry, completely off in his own world.

When had Severus become such a droll person to Harry? If he remembered correctly, it had been _Harry_ who had cornered him and demanded that they start a relationship. Severus had accepted, albeit with hesitation and surprise, but that was quickly overcome when Harry had sealed his lips to his once again. Yet it had been he, Severus Snape, who had first fallen so utterly and helplessly in love with the young man. Their relationship had been, at first, daring and forbidden, then confusing and uneasy; to tenderly loving and caring and then finally to on the rocks.

Where they stood now, teetering precariously over the rocky edge of a metaphorical cliff was a relationship _definitely_ on the rocks.

“Why now?”

The question had snapped Severus out of his trance and he looked up to meet Harry’s eyes for once, gazing at him intently.

“Pardon?” Severus blurted out. This was as eloquent as he would get. At least he hadn’t uttered out ‘huh?’ like certain dunderheads…

“Why now?” Harry repeated. He sat up straighter, as if a ruler had been brought down on his back and he gestured to the table between them. “Why did it take you so long to…you know…” a nervous swallow, “get back to me?”

Severus didn’t speak. He knew the answer. It was there, _somewhere_ lodged in his throat, and try as he may to get it out, the words would not budge from their hiding place. His eyes zeroed in on a patch of what looked like an oil stain on the wall over Harry’s shoulder and opened his mouth to speak before Harry spoke again.

“I completely understand, though, if you felt like your pride was getting a hit or something,” Harry spoke, but one indignant look from Severus had him amending his earlier statement, “no, no, no! That came out wrong. I mean, you can be…well, stubborn, at times, and so can I and I guess that’s where things just went…”

Harry trailed off. Severus finished for him. “Downhill?”

“Y-yeah…” Harry croaked out. His voice was a bit huskier than what Snape remembered. Harry’s voice may have broken at some point over his fourth summer or so, but it had never been deep. Now it had settled to an almost soft timbre, with a rough quality behind it. Severus, on the other hand, had been a deep baritone all his life, even as a teenager (as strange as it may have seemed), and although you wouldn’t describe it as dulcet, his voice had a velvety tone to it. Combined with his bluntness and snarky character, the sarcasm and biting remarks left his mouth with flowing ease.

Another uncomfortable silence followed. Harry fidgeted where he sat, squirming from left to right. Twice he’d slumped but then, as if remembering something, jolted straight up again so that his posture was near perfect.

If Severus’ memory served him right, he’d always chided Harry for slouching and having a bad posture. He didn’t know whether to feel pleased or worried that Harry was taking him so seriously. Good posture _was_ good for you, but maybe he’d been a little too harsh on Harry when they’d…dated.

Now, Severus had always been a man of composure. He’d never lost his cool unless the situation had gotten out of control, and even then, it was only his temper which showed. He’d never broken a sweat. Yet only Harry Potter, the young man sitting in front of him, was able to make him feel as if he had just run a mile, without magic. The bundles of nerves coiled in his stomach were snaking about uneasily, unfurling and releasing the stupid hormones which made him feel nauseous.

Thankfully, the heavy silence and tense atmosphere was broken by Madam Rosmerta arriving with their drinks. She levitated the drink laden tray onto the table, where the beverages where taken by their respective consumers.

Madam Rosmerta cleared her throat. “Right, well, if you need anything, just give me a holler,” and walked away. Harry nodded his thanks and cradled the bottle in his hands.

Severus could feel hot spikes of nerves and tension prickling down his back and he, as well as the item in his pocket, suddenly felt extremely heavy. They sipped their drinks in silence, Severus taking his shot of liquor first in order to loosen the wound-up nerves he could feel coiled up tensely inside him. He mentally chided himself when he realized that his hands were shaking from apprehension.

Harry kept glancing around the Three Broomsticks, eyes darting from patron to patron and then back to the tabletop again. He took a long gulp of butterbeer first and when his bottle hit the table hard, Severus looked up.

“You said you wanted to talk, Severus, which we certainly _aren’t_ ,” Harry snapped finally and Severus could see the frustration and unsettled nerves inside of him too. _He_ was nervous as well.

Harry lowered his head a moment when a few of the other patrons noticed their presence but they all glanced away when Severus glared at them.

“I apologize then,” Severus said shortly, clenching his hands into fists beneath the table. Harry’s head snapped upwards.

“Don’t _do_ that!” he frowned as Severus looked confused. “Apologize, I mean. It was partially my fault as well--”

“Well then you need to stop blaming yourself,” Severus interrupted silkily, stirring his coffee gently. Harry gnawed on his bottom lip then nodded slowly. “So let’s talk then. Where do you want to start?”

Harry’s eyebrows marred a moment as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth then he shyly met Severus’ eyes and whispered, “Our argument.”

Severus frantically tried to recall the event but realized that he couldn’t remember at all, just like before. All he knew was that it was explosive and angry, fueled by frustration and till this day, two years later, it hadn’t been solved properly.

Harry’s face fell when he realized how silent Severus had fallen. He sighed and took a sip of butterbeer to fortify his nerves somewhat, then began, “I don’t think you remember. Again, it was my--”

“Don’t. Blame. Yourself,” Severus hissed, watching as Harry looked taken aback. The younger man nodded, however, and continued.

“I… there was… it was nearly Christmas, if you can at least remember that,” Harry paused to see if Severus was following, and he was, which he indicated with a nod. “There was a party at the Weasley’s. And I wanted you to come with me so we could tell them, finally, that we were together. But you didn’t want to; you said that we had to keep it a secret because no one would understand.”

Ah. Now Severus could remember. And yes, he still believed that there was no way that those Weasley’s would understand, even to this day. But now that he reflected back on that event, he suddenly realized that if it meant he could keep Harry in the end, he would have screamed it out to the entire world from the highest tower of Hogwarts. With a Sonorous charm. And an amplifier.

“It just escalated from there. I believe we pulled out every fault we could find in each other to the point, I don’t recall what, that I stormed out. It was immature of me, Severus. I was stubborn--”

Harry was _still_ trying to make him feel better. Of course Harry ‘couldn’t recall’ what Severus had said, because Severus was sure he had forced himself to forget. But Severus, he could still remember, quite clearly, what he had shouted at Harry that fateful night.

“I said to stop blaming yourself. I was the one who pushed you away, Harry. I was the one who didn’t want to tell anyone about us. I was the one who told you that… that you weren’t any better than… than your,” Severus hesitated, “father, always wanting to seek attention…” he slowed to a whisper, to the point that Harry struggled to hear him.

Severus couldn’t see Harry but he knew that those eyes, those beautiful emerald eyes, were scrunching up in pain as he remembered. Closing, trying to hide the imminent tears that threatened to spill.

“And we never resolved,” Harry whispered, pained as he held his bottle of butterbeer closer to his chest, as if it would keep him grounded. “Oh Severus…”

Severus refused to cry but he could feel heat pricking behind his eyes and his vision had suddenly turned watery and glass-like. He ducked his head and waited until the moment had subsided before daring to look at Harry again. He was crying freely, one hand on his bottle, the other covering his mouth to muffle the stuttering gasps and sobs.

Severus reached a hand to grasp the one clasping the bottle, feeling a small tinge of happiness when Harry didn’t pull away and allowed his hand to be held. He held on tightly, as if he were afraid that Harry would suddenly fade away, but he rubbed soothing patterns on the back of Harry’s hand with his thumb.

“Harry… my Harry, if… if you can forgive a foolish, old man like me… please, please give me another chance,” Severus whispered, wishing he was closer to Harry so than he could cradle the whimpering boy to his chest.

Then Harry pulled his hand away and held it to him, attempting to mask a rather loud cry, but failing as he cried even harder. Severus was calm on the exterior but a bit of the panic he felt on the inside could be seen on his face. Severus’ heart thudded loudly as Harry shook his head, once, twice, and stood.

“I… I’m sorry, Severus. I can’t. _We_ can’t. It’s been two years. Two years and… and… oh Gods…” Harry wept brokenly as his eyes became glassy with tears.

And when Severus held Harry’s hand, it hadn’t occurred to him that there was a ring gleaming there, glinting in the sufficient lighting of the Three Broomsticks. It shined mockingly at him, laughing at the fool who had taken too long to swallow his pride and take back the one man he really loved.

But now he could see the ring, see it clearly as Harry tried to cover his mouth to stifle his uncontrollable, stuttering sobs.

Severus didn’t cry. But he was human, despite the coldness he always seemed to extrude, and he looked pained as he felt his heart shudder and break in his chest.

Harry was engaged. And that insignia on the ring. It was a crest. The _Malfoy_ family crest. Harry wiped furiously at his eyes, trying to get rid of the tears that were falling and rolling down his smooth cheeks. Severus waited and when he looked up, he was alone yet again.

The bottle of butterbeer in front of him was proof that he wasn’t imagining things. He felt frozen on the inside and other patrons were staring at him curiously but he didn’t care, didn’t acknowledge them as he sat there, completely listless. He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced when he realized it had gone cold, then stood and left to head back home.

He wasn’t sure if this was the closure he had in mind, but now he was certain that there wasn’t a chance anymore.

* * *

 

Madam Rosmerta had seen quite a few scenes similar to the one that had just occurred between Harry Potter and Severus Snape, and it usually ended in make up or break up.

She supposed, that by the way Harry had suddenly left and the way that Severus sat quietly, brokenly, that it had fallen into the latter category. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer for the both of them.

Severus stood, leaving some money on the table, then left. She watched as he went by, his face guarded and cold yet again, but her heart empathized with him.

Yes, Madam Rosmerta had seen many scenes like this before, but as she went to clean the table that they had sat at, she saw something on the chair that Severus had been seated at.

Even she shed a few tears when she opened the velvet box and saw two bond rings resting inside with their names engraved on the interior. 


End file.
